With Apologies to Emma Lazarus

I have spent the last hour staring at myself in the mirror and having the following conversation.

Me:  What is wrong with you?

Me:  What are you talking about?

Me:  Oh like you don't know.

Me:  I don't have a clue what you're talking about

(Child pounds on bathroom door)

Child:  Who are you talking to in there?

Me:  Go away, this is a private conversation

Child:  Can I have a popsicle?

Me:  Yes, but only the otter pops, the Dove Bars are mine

Child:  That's not fair.

Me:  If you had been paying attention in Geometry you would have figured that out by now.  Go get your popsicle and then mow the lawn and clean the whole house from top to bottom.

(Dead silence as child stealthily tiptoes away, pretending not to have heard the last part.)

Me:  Where were we?

Me:  You were accusing me of possessing some defect .


Me:  It isn't an accusation, it is a fact.  You have a foible.


Me:  (Heavy sigh whilst examining freakishly enlarged pores in mirror)  I forget, does a foible grow on your face or on your bum?


Me:  A foible is a character flaw, woman.  Sometimes you are so obtuse!


Me:  No need to bring up the weight issue again.  (Eyelids droop in  familiar mournful expression)


Me:  Everyone you know is training for a marathon or giving up sugar or improving in some way.  What are doing?  You are going nowhere, baby.


Me:  Oh yeah?  Well... I'll tell you what I'm doing.  I'm...


Me:  I know what you're doing...you're eating Dove Bars and reading novels while your indentured children clean your house.


Me:  I'm teaching them the value of work.


Me:  But what about you, what are you doing to improve yourself?


Me:  Well, at the moment I'm checking to make sure I don't have any extra long nose-hairs.  Those gross me out.


Me:  Why don't you train for a marathon, how about even a half marathon?


Me:  Can't do it.


Me:  What about giving up Marshmallow Maties, or Oreos, or something.  Can't you give up something?


Me:  I did give up something.  I gave up training for marathons and quitting sugar.  And I did it because I'm so unselfish that I am sacrificing myself so others may feel superior.


Me:  What the...


Me:  (Shoulders back, in authoritative Maya Angelou voice.  Battle Hymn of the Republic begins to fade in)

I'm the blogger people can come to me when they are tired after running 13 miles.  I'm the blogger people can come to when they have passed up free Krispy Kremes at the office.  I'm the blogger that says; give me your tired, your hungry huddled masses yearning to breathe in cotton candy.  The wretched rejects from the teeming track.  Send these, the blistered, donut deprived to me.  I lift my bad example outside the bathroom door!